


I Keep Having Dreams

by Hoppskibjack



Category: Bandom, Green Day, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Band Fic, Hotel Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sexual Frustration, not the first time, power bottom Tre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoppskibjack/pseuds/Hoppskibjack
Summary: Tre has been off lately in practice and acting strange towards Mike. This is throwing Mike off and bugging Billie. Mike decides to give him space, but that's the last thing Tre wants.





	I Keep Having Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eighty_eight_m8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighty_eight_m8/gifts).



> Birthday present for a friend on tumblr. This was a lot of fun to write. The prompt given was Tre/Mike with Tre as a "Power Bottom". He kind of became a power bottom and bossy bottom. Enjoy. Title is a swiped Frank Turner lyric.

Practice for the upcoming tour had been unusual this week. More than once they had fallen apart in the middle of a song that they had performed countless times before; slipping on the tempo as Tre lagged or Mike sped up. Neither bassist nor drummer were clicking into the familiar groove they had shared for so many years. Mike got the distinct impression Tre had an issue with him. He had no idea why. Maybe he was just being egotistical, and he wasn't sure why he thought that, just a tingling feeling in the back of his mind. 

So when Billie suggested drinks at the end of the week, (to calm everyone down and the alcohol would shake them out of whatever this was). Mike wasn't feeling it, but he had little choice but to follow them to a private booth in a nearly deserted hotel bar. He lingered for about fifteen minutes and had one drink before apologizing and excusing himself much to Billie’s argument. When his best friend asked him what was up, he simply pled exhaustion. It had been a challenging week. 

Mike was surprised and couldn’t help but see the irritated look in the drummers eyes, who didn't glance away with Mike looked over. Getting out of there would benefit everyone, he thought, he could be the bigger man. Billie nodded and after wrapping an arm around Mike in a hug, he bid him a good night before turning back to the conversation Jason had begun about pyrotechnics. The others chorused their own goodbyes and goodnights. Tre said nothing. 

Mike had been in his hotel room for about an hour, clad in a black tanktop and loose-fitting sweatpants when there was a knock on his door. He glanced through the peephole in the door and saw Tre staring back at him looking slightly pissed off and slightly… nervous? Mike exhaled and unlocked the door, pulling it open and staring expectantly at Tre. He tried for nonchalant, but instead he got slight irritation. “Hey Tre, what’s up?” 

“I need you to fuck me.” Tre stated flatly without preamble. 

If it had been anyone else Mike would have questioned their sobriety, but this was Tre and sobriety didn’t matter when it came to the words that came out of his mouth. “Come in.” Mike responded, opening the door wider to allow Tre to walk past him and closing it behind him. 

They both stood in the living room section of the suite for what seemed like eternity before Mike cleared his throat. “So, you need me to what?”

“I need you to fuck me. It’s been throwing me off since last week and I can’t shake it. I keep having these dreams and…” He paused there and huffed out a laugh. “Great dreams… I can’t focus on anything with you there, being… you.” 

This time Mike had to laugh. “Object of your fantasies, huh? I’m flattered.”

“You should be,” Tre said and his blue eyes got a little lighter, maybe even sparkling a bit. He seemed a little more himself. “Drummer on the streets, banger in the sheets.” 

“And yet you want me to do the bangin’,” Mike said and he tried desperately not to smirk. “That’s because of the dreams?” 

Tre nodded. 

“And you think this will fix things, help Mr. Cool get his groove back?” Oh, that was lame. 

“I never lost it,” Tre said, absently tapping on the arm of the sofa he had planted himself next to. “I know where it is.” He narrowed his eyes and Mike remembered how intense he could look with that eyeliner slightly smudged. “It's just hidden. What's the deal? You’re acting like this is the first time, Mike.” 

It definitely wasn’t the first time and Mike always enjoyed himself. It wasn’t even the first time in that configuration, Mike had only bottomed once. This was just so out of blue and Tre was so intense about it. He didn’t want to take advantage of his friend, he wasn’t a monster, but Tre seemed determined. Mike stood and crossed to the sofa, sitting down next to Tre and placing an arm across the back of the couch behind Tre. “The dreams are bothering you this much? They’re just dreams. You realize why this seems weird, right?” 

Tre blinked and with a blank look on his face asked, “You realize you never wear sleeves, right?” 

Mike laughed. “Ask a stupid question…” he trailed off before ‘get a stupid answer’ but Tre was quick off the draw. 

“Why do snakes slither and worms wriggle? It’s the same motion.” He raised his eyebrows to look at Mike who was chuckling. “Actually, that’s a good question,” he continued to himself.

That’s when Mike kissed him. He could say it was to shut him up, but the truth was he just wanted to. Tre pushed back, wrapping a hand around to cup Mike’s head. Both men fell into the kiss, as hands frantically sought hems of shirts to pull over heads and buttons to unbutton. Sitting on the couch then became standing next to it, as Mike’s sweatpants were shucked and Tre’s trousers left in a fabric puddle on the floor. 

“Bed,” Tre muttered trying to talk and keep kissing Mike at the same time. 

Mike attempted a nod, running his fingers down Tre’s sides and across his back. That had been his plan when he first started kissing Tre, but he understood the drummer’s urgency. 

It seemed like one moment they were across the room and then suddenly they were at the bed, with Tre pressed face down into the soft duvet humming his approval. This approval quickly turned when Mike left him for a moment to grab lube and a foil packet from the duffel bag near the bedside table. 

“Mike! Fuck. Me.” Tre said, punctuating the last two words with thrusts into the bed, then looking up to watch the bassist cross back over to him. 

“Man, Tre, fucking wait a second. I need lube and a, --” he paused mid sentence to punctuate the words with the tearing of the condom wrapper. He rolled one down on himself and smiled. Tre watched intently as he drizzled lube on his fingers and pressed in, scissoring him open and watching as Tre all but purred and relaxed for the first time since he had arrived at the door... One finger became two, which then became three and Tre had turned his head to look at Mike with dark and heavy eyes. He couldn’t wait any longer either. Mike started to press in. 

Both men stilled briefly to adjust to the intrusion and the tightness. Then Tre groaned, pushing his hips back and Mike took that as a good sign to keep moving. Regardless of how fast or hard Mike thrust in, Tre was pushing back, meeting each snap of his hips with his own and occasionally directing “harder, faster etc” There was a rhythm established, one that Mike had forgotten existed. 

As time went on he marveled. He couldn't seem to thrust deep enough or fast enough, Tre was always there wanting more. 

A litany of curses escaped both of them at different times, Tre’s words muffled into the duvet his cheek was pressed into and Mike's muttered under his breath or into Tre’s back. Each time the calling of the other man’s name was met with a groan or a sigh. 

The combination of his own thrusts and Tre’s were quickly becoming too much. Mike was grasping the edge of falling into climax with just his fingertips, trying to hold on just a little bit longer so the sensations wouldn't have to end. One more thrust, one more groan… The sweet, tight warmth enveloping him made him want to let go, and he closed his eyes against the sight of Tre laid out in front of him, bent double over the edge of the hotel bed. He’d be having dreams for weeks because of this, Tre was passing on the curse; not undoing it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ah fuck me Mike, fuck that feels good…” Tre’s muffled words reached his ears, and Mike opened his eyes, watching as Tre lifted his hips and his hand wrapped around his leaking erection. That sight, what little he could see of it (his brain filled in the rest) was the last straw, the last molecule of Mike’s restraint was gone. He came with a shudder, clamping his lips closed to avoid shouting. 

Tre was close behind, warm liquid thrown into the duvet beneath him as Mike collapsed on top of him. Tre made no effort to muffle his noise. 

The bandmates lay there sweaty and exhausted, but each of them with a slight smile. It wasn't until Mike glanced down the bed that his face took on a puzzled expression. 

“Hey,” he nudged the shorter man, “how did you take your pants off without taking your shoes off?” He pointed to the red Chuck Taylors which lay stark against the white duvet. 

Tre shrugged, “urgency, adrenaline… like a mother lifting a car off her baby.” 

Mike thought about responding, instead he nodded and gave a little half shrug. He tossed a hand towel at Tre to clean up, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed. “We can probably still grab a drink with Billie, if you're up to it.” 

“You should know by now, I'm always up,” Tre said simply and Mike rolled his eyes with a snicker. The two dressed to go downstairs where their friend would remark on the changed demeanor between the two. They knew he knew. Bandmates always knew those kinds of things.


End file.
